


Jaquemart XII - In A Gallery of Shadows (iii.  chiaroscuro)

by alanharnum



Series: Jaquemart [16]
Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 18:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanharnum/pseuds/alanharnum





	Jaquemart XII - In A Gallery of Shadows (iii.  chiaroscuro)

JAQUEMART  
by  
Alan Harnum

Utena and its characters belongs to Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito,   
Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai and TV Tokyo.

This copy of the story is from my Archive of Our Own page at http://archiveofourown.org/users/alanharnum/pseuds/alanharnum.

 

XII. In a Gallery of Shadows

iii. chiaroscuro

* * *

Two glasses of wine. Both red. One for him, and one for her.  
He obviously wanted her to take one. But which one?

He had one held slightly more prominently then the other.  
Take the other one, then. Or perhaps he would have expected   
that. Yes, he would have. She reached for the one held more  
prominently, avoiding with some difficulty any touch of his skin  
against hers as she took it.

"They're both the same," he said, arching his eyebrows.   
"Was that truly such a hard decision?"

"Your audacity obviously hasn't changed any," she said  
quietly. She held the wine, but did not drink it. Would not,   
she decided, under any circumstances. She considered dashing it   
in his face. A dramatic gesture, surely, but he would   
undoubtedly only smile and say something about high spirits and   
misunderstandings to placate the shocked watchers. They would  
think her some silly infatuated little girl having a tantrum; all  
their sympathy would lie with him.

"Since when is it audacious to offer a glass of wine to an  
old friend you haven't seen in years?"

She sighed, very softly, unable to keep it in, hoping that  
he wouldn't hear it, knowing he would. "Akio-san, let's not do  
this."

"Do what?" He raised the rim of his glass to his full lips  
and drank a little of the red.

"The verbal by-play. The pretensions. I don't feel up to  
it." It was true; she felt very tired. She wanted to go back to   
the hotel and sleep, even if it was beneath that crack in the  
ceiling that she couldn't forget.

Akio's green eyes flashed with amusement. He drank again  
and regarded her. Raked her with his eyes, a gaze that gently  
flayed clothing and skin alike from her body.

"You've grown into a lovely woman," he said softly. To her  
shame, she coloured a little at the words. Such power, in that  
voice of his. "You would look better in more feminine outfits   
than that, but--"

"I don't care any more about what you think of me," she   
said, cutting him off. "So why are you bothering? Why are you  
_pretending_?"

"Perhaps it's my nature," he said drolly. "Aren't you going  
to drink your wine?"

"No."

He shrugged. "As you will. I admit the game is wearisome   
to me as well. Shall we simply adjourn to the Duelling Arena and   
hack at each other with swords until one of us lies dead?"

She could not suppress a wince, and had no answer.

"As I thought. You should not have come back here. You  
should have continued to live the life of a normal person. But  
now you have come back into my world, and dragged others with  
you. And you are not capable of handling that responsibility."

"We're going to stop you," she said.

"Stop me?" He arched an eyebrow and looked as though he  
were barely containing his laughter. "You don't even have the  
slightest idea of where to begin. You haven't even realized the  
depths of your own self yet. How could you possibly realize the  
depths of any of this, without that?"

She watched him, unspeaking. He swished the wine in his  
glass and brought it to his lips. The waltzing continued behind  
their backs. She wanted to look and see if she could spot Miki   
and Nanami dancing together, but that would have meant taking her  
eyes off of Akio.

"Just as before, however, you flee anything with a hint of  
darkness to it, even though only in the darkness will you ever   
find answers. Your refuge is full of light, and of ignorance."

"As usual," she said coolly, "you say things that seem very  
impressive and wise, but you actually don't know what you're  
talking about."

He drained the last of his wine. A convenient waiter,  
passing with a tray filled with likewise empty glasses, accepted  
it from him. "You're still very good at lying to yourself. But,   
in the end, you will be forced to confront the truth. Of what   
you were. Of what she did. Just as she did before. Without  
Revolution, there can be no true change."

"You are so full of it." She scowled. "I can't believe I  
ever..."

"That you ever?"

"I don't even know why I'm talking to you," she muttered.  
"Here. Take your wine back. I don't want it."

He accepted the glass from her calmly. Their fingers,   
again, did not touch.

"Perhaps you ought to reconsider your intent and the intent  
with which you have directed your friends," he said, smiling.  
"See how you have been in my presence for several minutes now,  
making perfectly polite and peaceful conversation? There is no  
need for drastic measures. Leave this place. Return to your  
normal lives. You left my world not by your own will, but   
because I allowed it. You should remember that." His eyes  
narrowed slightly, and his smile acquired an edge. "You should  
be grateful."

"Grateful?" She couldn't manage to keep a hissing rage out  
of her voice. "Tsuwabuki's in jail because of you. And that's   
only the beginning of things. You sent that Leo Cano nut after   
Anthy, and I still don't know what's happened to her..." Good  
that she had given him back the wine glass, because her fists   
were suddenly balled so tightly, so involuntarily, that were she   
still holding it she likely would have shattered it.

His expression darkened. "The boy's murder of his friend   
was no doing of mine. You may believe I have absolute control  
over all that goes on here, but you would be sorely mistaken. As  
for my sister..." He shook his head. "I will not speak of her  
to you."

"You're exactly the same," she said. "Exactly. You won't  
take responsibility for anything. It's never your fault. I  
don't know why I don't just--"

"Had you the blade, could you do it?" he hissed, low and  
cutting. "Were I to bare my throat to you at this moment..." He  
raised a dark hand to his collar, smiling sardonically, and  
fiddled with the knot of his tie. "...could you? In front of   
all these people?"

She looked at the floor. Damn him.

"Then you are either a coward, willing to risk the sacrifice  
of others but not yourself in this act of petty vengeance, or you  
know in your heart that you have no right to judge me, that you  
have not earned and never can earn such a right. You can no more  
hope to understand me than you could ever hope to understand my  
sister. If you do not understand a thing, you have no right to  
judge it."

"I'd hate to have to understand you," she said quietly. "To  
do that, I'd have to be as sick as you are."

"You weary me," he said after a moment. He sounded   
genuinely sad. Tired, even. "You were once so exceptional. But  
you've willed yourself to forget. You've lost your noble heart."  
He paused. "No; you've had it taken from you. But you refuse to   
let yourself remember that. I should rather be almost anything  
than a self-deceiver. I am what I am, but at least I know what   
it is that I am."

"And who am I, then, if not who I believe myself to be?"  
she asked him, low and almost threatening, knowing he would not  
answer truthfully, uncaring that he would not.

"I have no interest in telling you that. You can answer it  
yourself if you think back to the root of matters. You were  
offered a glimpse earlier, but turned your eyes away in fear."

"Akino Akami," she said quietly. "'I was hoping you would  
like me, prince.'"

He nodded, and made as if to turn away.

"Wait." He paused. "Who is she?"

He shrugged. "She is what she is. Ask her yourself." Then  
he did turn away, walk away, sipping the wine he had originally  
offered to her.

Utena let out a deep breath and turned to regard the   
dancers. She couldn't see Miki and Nanami amidst the dozens of  
couples, but, then again, neither of them was tall. One couple  
was, however, and she recognized both of them to her shock.

Then she laughed, darkly. "That," she said softly, only to  
herself, as she watched Leo Cano and Akino Tokiko waltzing  
elegantly together, "can only end badly."

"Difficult conversation?" asked a voice at her elbow.

She looked over at Touga. "Not as much as I'd thought," she  
said after a moment. She thought upon it. "Much less   
difficult than I thought it might be. The actual conversation, I  
mean."

"I saw you heading down there during his speech. You were  
the only one moving. I tried to catch up to you, but the crowd  
got in the way; I was glad to see Nanami got you. What were you  
doing?"

"Doing? I don't really know. I was angry. Listening to   
him say all those things. But... I don't know what I was doing."

Touga looked as though that were the answer he had expected.  
He watched the dancers in silence for a little while.

"Your sister's dancing with Miki," Utena said finally.

He smiled faintly, but his eyes were unhappy. "I know.   
They look good together."

"You don't trust Miki, do you?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

"I agree with you. Pretty convenient how he showed up just  
before Akio did and asked Nanami to dance, which meant Akio got  
to talk to me and me alone."

He nodded, smile fading, eyes turning even more unhappy.  
A certain tightness to his features betrayed a deep turmoil   
within. He was good at hiding his feelings, but not perfect.

"What do you know about Akino Akami?" she asked.

He pursed his lips. "Other than that she's the current  
President of the Student Council and what you told me last   
night--"

"This morning, actually. Real early." She smiled, hoping  
he would smile with her. 

He did not. "--among which was that she assaulted my  
sister, not much. She came here as a student the year before  
this one. She's the captain of the fencing team. Involved with   
the Duellist's Society."

"What is that, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Combining the knowledge I acquired while..."  
He grimaced, apparently in distaste. "While lacking in memories  
with what I know now, I believe it's a cover for something else.  
One of those not-so-secret secret societies that have a tendency  
to pop up in exclusive private schools. Fencing and kendo are   
formalized sports, quite different from actual swordplay. The   
Duellist's Society practices to fight with real swords in an   
authentic manner. But they wear the Rose Signet, so they must   
have some purpose in his plans."

"You don't really like the person you were when you couldn't  
remember, do you?"

"I dislike naivety and foolishness, no matter how noble-  
seeming. They lead inevitably to bad ends." He glanced over at   
her, eyes softening a little; dropping the mask, allowing himself  
to be momentarily vulnerable. "Did you like me?"

"Yeah," she said after a moment. "Yeah, I did. I wasn't  
sure if you were genuine or not, but if you were genuine... it  
was sweet." She made herself smile a little more. "I liked your  
sketches, too."

He looked away; the mask slid back into place like a   
closing door. "Would you like to dance, Utena? I remember... I   
never got to dance with you."

"Maybe later," she said, softly. "We've got company."

Juri and Shiori were approaching, threading their way   
through the crowd who lingered around the outskirts of the dance  
floor.

"Did you see our witch-hunting acquaintance and his dance  
partner?" Juri asked dryly. She had a nearly-empty wine glass   
held loosely between two fingers.

Utena nodded. "Interesting couple."

"It's so cute when old people are romantic," Shiori   
murmured. Touga laughed softly at that, and she glanced at him.  
"I see your sister grabbed Miki at first opportunity."

"The other way round, from what Utena tells me."

Juri finished off her wine. "It's been an interesting   
evening so far, hasn't it?"

"I talked to Akio," Utena said. "He's the same as ever.  
Spouting the usual rhetoric about Revolution and not taking  
responsibility for his own actions. Hey, Touga, does he   
actually believe any of that stuff?"

"Why are you asking me?" Touga said stiffly.

Juri cut at him with a sharp glance of her green eyes.   
"Because you chose to serve him willingly and manipulated the  
rest of us so very skillfully?" she said.

Touga looked back at her blankly for a moment, and then a  
sardonic, almost cruel cast came upon his face. "In your   
particular case, Arisugawa, I had little to do with anything;   
Ends of the World, in fact, ordered that I step back and let a  
ringer step in. Or am I expected to quietly take the place of   
the one you would really like to vent your fury at?"

Juri's face twisted, and for a moment it looked as though  
she would strike him. Then Shiori touched her elbow, and she  
calmed. "You are right, of course," she said, with ice in it.  
"I apologize, and acknowledge the fact that you confined your   
manipulations to your best friend, to Miki, and to your own  
sister."

Shiori sighed. "I feel like dancing." She stepped forward,  
away from Juri, and held out her hand. "Touga? For old time's  
sake?"

Touga looked slightly stunned, though he hid it quickly  
behind a charming, nostalgic, faintly sad smile. "For old time's   
sake." He took Shiori's hand and led her towards the dancing   
throng.

The look on Juri's face could have cut glass as she   
watched Touga put his hand on Shiori's small waist and lead her  
into the waltz. The other dancers soon obscured them, although   
Touga was tall enough that his crimson-haired head could still   
be seen, moving in perfect time to the music.

"I think she's subtly hinting that you should stop trying to  
pick fights with him, sempai," Utena said cautiously.

"She does this sometimes," Juri said flatly, distantly, not  
seeming to to hear her at all.

"Huh? What?"

"We go out once in a while. To parties. People from the  
fencing team invite us, or from our classes. She'll pick a man  
and pay attention to him. Dance with him, if there's dancing.  
She only does it to bother me."

Utena grinned nervously, hesitated, then said, "Maybe she   
just likes to dance?"

Juri appeared unamused, and her expression softened not a  
whit. "She doesn't do it often."

Utena shrugged, and, still hoping to lighten the tension,  
made a suggestion. "So cut in after this dance. I doubt Touga  
will protest."

Juri didn't say anything.

"Sempai, did...?"

"Shiori and I try not to give any hints of what our true  
relationship is in public," Juri said softly, still very distant.

Utena blinked. "So what's wrong with dancing? I mean, I   
was dancing with Anthy at the Spring Ball right after I met her,  
and..." She trailed away, colouring faintly, wishing desperately  
she hadn't even begun this line of conversation.

Juri finally smiled, though it seemed more perfunctory than  
anything else. "I remember that. Miki and I were watching from  
the sidelines; it was one of the things that impressed me about  
you, right from the start."

To her despair, the words somehow made her embarassment   
increase. "Oh. Didn't see you two there."

"We didn't want you to."

"I see."

A little warmth had crept into Juri's smile, like a crack in  
the ice covering a deep blue lake. "You told me once that you  
loved Himemiya, but that it was different from how I loved   
Shiori. What did you mean by that?"

Utena coughed. "Just that--"

"Good evening again, Arisugawa-san, Tenjou-san," someone   
said from close behind them; soft, polite and feminine.

The two of them turned in almost a twin movement. "Good  
evening, Mari-san," Utena greeted.

Mari smiled charmingly at them. "Are you enjoying   
yourselves?"

"Yes, we're both having a very good time," Utena said  
quickly.

Mari appeared pleased. "It was a lot of work, putting this  
all together. A lot of cooperation between the Student   
Council..."

What's left of it, Utena thought, and then felt horrible for  
thinking it.

"...and Kaoru-sensei and the Office of the Chairman. But it  
all came together nicely."

"Indeed," Juri said, giving Utena brief, significant glance.

"Cooperation, huh?" Utena asked.

Mari nodded. "Traditionally, there hasn't been a lot of  
contact between the Council and the faculty and the Chairman's  
office." She looked at Juri. "You probably remember that the  
Council's pretty independent."

"Quite," Juri agreed crisply.

"Well, we've all been working to change that. More  
cooperation, working together for the common good of the  
Academy." She hesitated, clasping her hands before her and   
looking suddenly shy and sad after her earlier friendliness.   
"You're Kiryuu Nanami's friends, so I guess you know about   
Mitsuru. About what happened."

Utena nodded. There were questions unspoken in Mari's  
words. "We know." Answers to them, hopefully, in her own. Let  
us help you, she urged silently.

Mari took a while before speaking again, and her eyes were  
downcast. "I think things are pretty different from when you two   
were here."

"Not entirely different," Juri said assuredly, folding her  
arms and looking, suddenly, vastly competent. It struck Utena  
then just how glad she was to have Juri at her side, both at this  
single moment and in general; Juri, who was so strong.

Mari looked trapped and a little scared, as though caught   
between their two gazes. Somehow, though, glad to be that way.  
In a cage, Utena thought, you are not only kept in; other things  
are kept out.

She smiled at Mari, trying to come across as friendly and  
concerned, not merely as a condescending busybody. "It sounds   
like it's something you'd like to talk about. I remember Mitsuru  
really well; I was so sorry to hear about what happened."

"You couldn't understand," Mari said softly, something close  
to anger in it. "People like to pretend as though they could  
somehow ever know how other people feel; a lot of the time, I   
like to do it. But you can't, really."

"Perfect understanding isn't possible." Juri's voice was  
quiet, compassionate in a way that surprised Utena. So many  
bright facets to Juri, like a jewel. "But that doesn't mean it's  
not worth trying for."

"I should go," Mari said after a moment. "I'm sorry to   
bother the two of you."

Moving towards them, tall enough and striking enough to be   
visible amidst the milling, mingling crowd, Akino Akami. A  
purposeful walk; slipping through the gaps between groups like a  
knife in the dark. Mari's eyes latched onto the President of the  
Student Council; they were wide, frightened, guilty.

Utena steeled herself. "Hey Juri, I bet you can find lots   
of treasurer-type things to talk about with Mari-san, can't you?"

"I suppose," Juri said neutrally. She took Mari by the   
elbow and steered her gaze away from Akami's approach. "Tell me,  
is the budget still..."

Juri's question and Mari's answer faded behind her into the  
ebb and flow of the crowd's chatter, as she moved to intercept.  
The waltz reached a crescendo, or as much as a crescendo as could  
be reached by the quartet. Akami was before her, dark-haired and  
dark-eyed, as tall as she was. 

Before she could speak, Utena said, "We got interrupted last  
time. You wanted to talk to me somewhere more private?"

A slow smile, with something almost like warmth in it, broke  
across Akami's pale face. "I'd thought you unwilling."

"Changed my mind."

"I'm so pleased." She gave a small yet somehow sweeping  
bow, extending one arm away from her body and holding the other  
tight with the hand upon her breast. Like the invitation to a  
dance, Utena thought, and shivered faintly. This was stupidly  
dangerous. But it would keep Akami away from Mari for a little  
while, and Juri could probably do a lot with that time. "If you  
are willing, we shall fetch our coats, and walk; the winter night  
is mild, and the stars are out."

"Sounds nice."

"Yes." Her smile showed no teeth, but the hunger of it   
showed in the set of her thin red lips and the dark of her eyes.  
"It will be nice to finally talk to you again, after all these   
years."

* * *

They had one more dance together after their first, and then Miki   
asked her if she wanted to get something to drink. She said yes,  
and they drifted away from the dance floor towards the closest   
bar table, with her holding onto his arm.

"That was nice," Nanami said vaguely, as he handed her a   
wine glass and took one for himself. "Thank you."

Miki smiled at her. Such a nice smile. "Thank you. You  
dance just as well as I remember, from the graduation ball."

"I felt a little out of practice."

He shrugged, managing a charmingly casual gesture even in  
formal wear. "I haven't danced since then either, so we were on  
the same footing."

"Good wine."

"Yes, isn't it?"

"Miki--" She couldn't finish. If she'd had words in mind,  
they fled her.

He looked away from her. Blue eyes behind thin lenses in  
delicate silver frames; glasses suited him. His eyes were a  
darker shade of blue than Utena's or Touga's. There were hidden   
things in them; corals with bright fish, at the bottom of the   
sea. The sea, the sea that had taken Kozue and refused to yield   
her up again. The merciless apathy of the sea.

What did he know? What was he hiding from them? If he was  
here, it was because Akio wanted him here. But how, why? This  
was _Miki_; he was too smart to become a pawn again, to be  
selfishly manipulated by Akio, even if he couldn't remember the  
Duels and the Revolution.

"Nanami?"

"We shouldn't have lost touch after graduation, Miki." That  
was not what she'd intended to say, but now it was said. No  
taking it back. And it was perfectly true; the truth of it, in  
his presence, hit her hard, in a way it never had before.

"It happens," he said softly. "And I--"

She stopped him with a raised palm. "Please. Don't."

He still wasn't looking at her. The light moved like a  
swimmer in his glasses, veiling his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Damn fool, she cursed herself. You've always got plenty of  
words to hurt people with, but never enough for anything else.  
Never enough words to say the right thing. She looked around: at  
the faces of the crowd, which seemed ill-defined and flat next to  
the familiar contours of Miki's features; Touga, still dancing   
with Shiori (Juri wasn't going to like that); that nut Leo Cano,  
his dance partner a fashionably-dressed older woman (if he were  
here, he was undoubtedly intending to make some move against  
Akio, but Akio wasn't anywhere in sight now); Juri, talking to  
Hozumi Mari and occasionally looking towards Shiori and Touga   
with calculated casual glances (that was good; perhaps nearly as  
good as Utena talking to her). She didn't see Utena anywhere,  
which worried her.

"Don't be," she said finally. "Maybe... maybe we should  
talk later. Somewhere better than this, without so many people  
around."

He nodded. His fingers toyed with the slender neck of his  
wine glass. "I'd like that, Nanami-kun."

"So would I." Simple words, but they seemed to be working,  
wish for more eloquence though she might. If only she could  
speak like Akio could--or perhaps it was better that she could  
not. No one should be able to speak like that, with such a voice  
and such beautiful lying words.

Behind them, the current waltz was finishing up. Touga and  
Shiori parted ways when the music stopped, Shiori heading back   
towards Juri and Mari, and Touga going the opposite direction.  
At the edge of the dance floor, he stopped to speak to an older  
woman in a grey dress who was vaguely familiar to Nanami; after a  
moment, they took to the dance floor together.

"Miki, who's that woman dancing with my brother?" The word  
"brother" passed sourly from her lips, with a bad taste to it,   
but appearances had to be kept up. Did it have the proper note   
of faint jealousy to it?

Miki looked. "Ohtori Hoshimi, the wife of Ohtori Academy's   
real chairman."

"Oh, yes." She remembered now. "I was introduced to her  
at the reception for the Amsterdam school's director last year."

"I've only met her a few times. I'll have to see if I can  
catch her when Touga-sempai is done with her; the whole building  
is named after her daughter, after all."

"It's a wonderful gallery." She hesitated, then said,   
"Kozue would like it." One of those statements that was probably  
quite untrue--Kozue had never struck her as the type to   
appreciate something like this--but was meant kindly. The sort  
of thing she imagined Utena might say. Perhaps, even, had   
already said to him.

Miki's expression softened a little, tender and sad in equal  
measure. "Yes. She'd like it very much."

One memorial contained within another. Yolk within the egg.  
Egg within the nest. Two dead girls, and Akio's hands were  
certainly bloody. Poor Miki. It was frightening how much she   
hated Akio, if she really started thinking about it. She'd had  
the opportunity to put a knife into him only shortly before this  
night. Maybe she should have taken it. There hadn't been anyone  
else around, after all. But she'd been too scared, of the  
consequences if she failed; maybe of the consequences if she  
succeeded. Maybe she should have just let Utena do whatever it   
was she'd been intending to do. 

She remembered what Juri had said earlier. About the two  
worlds, and people slipping through the cracks between them when  
they came together. Tsuwabuki was in jail for something that had  
happened in another world, one with different rules. It wasn't  
fair. There had been too many people around; she couldn't have  
let the same thing happen to Utena, whatever Utena had seemed to  
want at the time.

"Nanami-kun? I've got to speak to the caterers about   
something." He had suddenly come closer, and his hand was on her   
elbow, a light, warm touch. "I'll make sure to find you again  
before the evening's over."

"All right."

He slipped away from her, a lithe dark-suited figure soon  
lost to the mob who danced, ate, drank, talked, observed, without  
any true idea of what price their celebrations came at. Like  
blind--

Something touched her left ankle through the thin white   
hose, and she jumped, startled out of the dark thoughts,   
remembering suddenly all the terrors of the angry ghosts and  
looking instinctively for the nearest exit through which to flee.

"Chu!"

She breathed a sigh of relief and quickly bent down as  
unobtrusively as possible. "What are you doing here?" she  
hissed, as the animal hopped up into her free hand. "Utena  
left you at the hotel room. How did you come all this way?"

Chu-Chu looked inordinately, even arrogantly proud of  
himself. "Chu."

"Stowed away in the car somehow, did you? Maybe in one of  
our bags?" 

He nodded, and then his expression became as sober as he  
could possibly make it, which wasn't very. "Chu." He gestured  
towards the nearest stairway leading up to the second floor of  
the gallery.

Nanami frowned and looked around at the other guests. If  
anyone noticed the odd sight of her talking to a... whatever Chu-  
Chu was, then they were politely not staring. And probably   
talking about it behind her back. Some of the guests probably  
remembered her from when she'd been in her final years at Ohtori.  
Yes, there was undoubtedly going to be gossip about this.   
Rumours. Remember Kiryuu Nanami? Well, at the reception for the  
gallery opening, she...

She had the sudden and mildly profound realization that she  
honestly didn't care at all what those people thought of her.   
"What is it?" She headed towards the stairs, talking softly.   
"Is something--" She cut herself off and looked around for the  
others. Touga was still dancing with the real chairman's wife.  
Juri and Shiori both seemed to be engaging Mari in conversation.  
No Leo any more. Still no Utena or Akio. No Akami (thank   
goodness).

The missing were tallied together and fear came swiftly upon  
her. She paused in her steps, torn between heading for the   
stairs and hurrying back for the others. There might not be   
time to--

Chu-Chu made a low, guttural sound in his throat, and   
pointed towards the stairs again. That decided her, and she  
hastily ascended to the second floor, throwing what she hoped was  
a significant gaze back towards Juri and Shiori. But she   
couldn't see them any more; they were lost somewhere in the   
ebbing movement of the crowd.

"Which way?"

He indicated, and she hurried. He growled again to stop her  
at one end of the upper gallery, a corner bare of art and empty   
of guests thereby. The only really distinguishing thing were the  
latticework white doors with their diamond-shaped panes, leading  
out onto a large balcony that presumably would be made use of in  
warmer weather. Through the glass, she could see patches of snow  
clinging tenaciously to the tiled floor and the raised marble   
lip.

Chu-Chu waved a stubby paw towards the door.

"You're joking. There's nobody out there. And it's   
_cold_. Did you bring me up here for nothing? Where's Utena?"

He looked at her flatly. Pleadingly. Dark eyes in which  
light did not glint; eyes with a sense of incompletion to them,  
a half-finished sketch. Strange eyes.

"_Fine_," she sighed. "But this better be important."

The doors weren't locked. As soon as she opened them, cold  
air stole in and grabbed at her with chill, insubstantial   
fingers. The night was warm, for winter, but it was a winter  
night still. She hugged herself against the biting chill,  
gritted her teeth, and staggered out into the frigid night with  
Chu-Chu clutched tightly to her breast, pushing the doors closed  
behind her with her heel.

She drank half her nearly-full wine glass in one gulp,   
hoping the alcohol would warm her, and then put it and Chu-Chu  
down on the wide, high lip of the balcony. "Well?" Her teeth  
were chattering; there was no way she could stay outside like   
this for more than a few minutes. She'd freeze to death. The  
dress was certainly fashionable and showed off her figure to good  
effect, but it was hardly warmer than being naked.

"Well?" she repeated, when no answer was forthcoming.

Chu-Chu threw a glance back at her from his intense scrutiny  
of the ground over the edge of the balcony, and raised a finger   
to his lips. She frowned, shivered some more, and leaned over   
the edge to get a look. The balcony faced the Duelling Forest.   
In the night and the shadows, the individual trees were lost, and  
the entirety of it hulked like a dark malign mountain. Her   
shiver at the sight lost amidst all her others, she turned her  
gaze downwards. A tree-lined path curved away from Kanae   
Memorial Hall, following the western wall of the Academy. After  
a moment, she heard a door opening directly below the balcony,  
and voices. Chu-Chu spared her a meaningful glance; she hunkered   
down behind the lip of the balcony so as to be less visible and  
tried to will her teeth to stop chattering, with limited success.

"...this private enough for you?"

"Quite. Shall we walk?"

"Whatever."

Her eyes widened. What was Utena doing with _her_? The  
fool. The damn fool! Didn't she _listen_?

"Perhaps you'd rather simply talk here? There's no one  
around to listen."

"I don't really care."

Akami's laughter was surprisingly high and sweet, without  
any hint of poison in it. "Are you usually so hostile when   
you're trying to distract someone?"

Utena didn't reply. Nanami huddled in a shivering ball on  
the balcony, hands clutching the freezing edge of the lip and  
straining not to reveal her presence. They were right below her.  
Chu-Chu, she noted, with both envy and disconcertion, did not   
seem at all bothered by the cold.

"Look." Utena sounded dreadfully tired. Nanami felt sorry  
for her. This all meant so much more for her than this did for  
any of them. "I'm really lousy at being subtle. So I'm not even  
going to try any more. I know the kind of things that go on at  
this school, and I know you're involved in them. I'm going to  
put a stop to this. To all of this. And if you're going to be  
my enemy..."

"I don't want to."

"...then there isn't really--huh?"

"You're only telling me these things because you think that  
he already knows them. You think that I serve him. That I'm his  
lap-dog or errand-girl." Akami laughed again, and this time it  
was bitter. "I am not Kiryuu Touga; more precisely, I am at   
least not what he was when he was President."

Nanami heard Utena suck in a breath, and nearly did the same  
herself. She was now so numb from the cold that she was hardly  
even feeling it any more. Vaguely, she realized that was  
probably dangerous. She should stand up. Go back inside. But  
she wanted to hear this. It was very cold. Too cold. Her  
jacket had been light. More fashionable than functional. And  
it hadn't been nearly so cold coming in. Maybe it was the  
altitude of the balcony. But it wasn't that high up.

"You know a lot, obviously," Utena murmured; Nanami barely  
heard her. "But... what I really want to know..."

"I know what you want to know," Akami said gently. "Come  
now. We shall walk; I will tell you a story. About two   
children. Brother and sister. A fire. A prince."

"All right."

Don't go with her, Nanami thought. Tried to say it, as  
though saying it, even softly, would make it happen. But her  
tongue was a slab of ice, frozen to her palate. Cold had fallen  
upon her like a thick grey shawl. Suffocating. Enervating. But  
oddly comfortable. Intimate. On the edge of her hearing were  
footsteps moving away beneath her. They vanished abruptly. Two  
figures vanishing into a snowstorm. So cold. Something pulling  
on her finger. Left ring finger. She couldn't see anything.   
Had she closed her eyes? She hadn't mean to.

Don't move. Just stay here. It's warm here. Safe here.

Small, sharp teeth sank into her finger. Hard. She   
shrieked and pulled away from the lip of the balcony, pain   
breaking through the velvety layers of cold that had come upon  
her so subtly and slowly that she hadn't even noticed them until  
it was too late. Now, suddenly alert again, she realized how  
_wrong_ everything felt. The cold was unnatural; not merely too  
deep, but somehow aberrant. There was a presence. A third   
beyond herself and Chu-Chu. Who was clinging to her hand, having  
bit her to awake her and probably saved her life. His short fur  
was bristling, and he was making a sound halfway between a   
whimper and a growl.

She ran for the doors and seized the handles. They were  
ice beneath her hands, and would not turn. Not even a rattle, as  
there would have been were they locked. They simply would not  
turn.

"W-w-w-w--" What are you? She couldn't manage to say the  
words out loud. Her teeth were clicking together in an almost  
musical rhythm. There was no one beyond the doors to see her.   
To save her.

She snarled in order to keep from weeping with frustration  
and fear, and exerted all her strength upon the handles, putting  
the full weight of her body behind them. Did they budge a   
little, or was it just stupid hope making her think they did?   
She kept up the pressure, gritting her teeth. They wouldn't  
chatter if she gritted them. Chu-Chu was on her shoulder; she  
could feel him shivering as he clung to the shoulder strap of her  
dress.

Just at the point where she was ready to give up, the   
handles turned. The doors swung wide and she stumbled back into  
the light, warmth, _safety_ of the gallery, almost slamming them  
behind her in her eagerness to hopefully hold back whatever had  
manifested out there. Angry ghosts, angry ghosts... but why were  
they angry at _her_? She hadn't burned down Nemuro Memorial  
Hall...

Turning away from the doors, she stumbled against someone   
and nearly fell.

"Watch it!" she snapped, even as he grabbed her by the upper   
arms to steady her; moments later, she saw his face, and   
blanched. "Miki..."

"Nanami, what were you doing out there?" His expression was  
tense and concerned. 

"Fresh air," she said quickly. "I--"

"You could have frozen." He let her arms go and took a step  
back. "I know it's a warm night, for winter, but that dress..."

"What's wrong with my dress?"

"Nothing. It's a nice dress. But it's not very warm,   
that's all--what's that?" His eyes had fixed on Chu-Chu.

"Oh, him? Tenjou Utena's pet. I found him wandering  
around in here."

"He used to belong to Tenjou-sempai's roommate, didn't he?"  
Miki asked softly.

Nanami nodded. "Yes."

"I remember her. We used to play piano together. She was  
very nice. But then she left the school." He paused. "Around  
the time Tenjou-sempai did, now that I think about it."

"She's not here," Nanami blurted.

Miki blinked. "Who's not here?"

"Himemiya Anthy. Tenjou's roommate. She isn't. Just in  
case you were wondering."

He looked at her. "You're shaking, Nanami-kun. Put this   
on."

She gratefully accepted the offer of his tuxedo jacket, and  
draped it over her shoulders. Chu-Chu scampered down from her as  
she did, ran between Miki's legs, and was soon lost to the crowd  
near a less isolated area of the second floor.

Miki pursed his lips and looked after him. "Should we try  
and catch him?"

"He can take care of himself," Nanami said, drawing the   
jacket a little tighter around herself. The fabric was soft, and  
smelt faintly of a light cologne. She was still cold.

"Yes. I remember; he always seemed unusually clever."

She frowned and slipped her arms into the too-large sleeves of  
the jacket, then shivered involuntarily with the last traces of   
the cold.

Miki took off his glasses and held them loosely in one hand,  
leaning forward to study her concernedly. "How long were you out  
there?"

"Not long. I left my wine glass behind."

"We'll go get it after you warm up a little. If you wanted  
fresh air, you should have got your coat first."

"Probably." She looked away from him. "Pretty foolish of   
me."

"Yes." Then he flushed faintly, and used replacing his  
glasses as an excuse to break eye contact. "I mean--"

She laughed. "So, you like my dress?"

"It looks good on you."

"Thank you. Let's go get the wine glass back." Somehow,  
she felt sure that whatever was out to get her wouldn't come for  
her with Miki around. She felt safe now. Comfortable.

He opened the doors, still looking a little flushed. They  
stepped out slowly onto the balcony together. The air was crisp,  
but not unnaturally cold, and Miki's tuxedo jacket helped a lot.  
The wine glass stood where she'd left it, solitary and lonely,  
the fine crystal glinting faintly with captured starlight.

To her surprise, but not to her displeasure, she found his  
arm around her nearly as soon as they were outdoors. She leaned  
into him with a quiet, tired sigh. It felt good. Someone to  
rest against, even if just for a little while. Particularly him.  
To forget, for a little while, about everything else... that was  
all right, wasn't it? Utena could surely take care of herself.

"I missed you," he said softly. Almost whispered it, into  
her ear. His breath warm against her cheek and neck. "I... when  
I saw you with Tenjou-sempai, I wasn't sure what to do. How to  
begin."

"Asking me to dance was a good start." She smiled and   
rested her head on his shoulder. "A proper lady can't resist a  
man who knows how to dance well."

Don't be stupid or complacent, she thought. Remember the  
situation. Remember all the suspicions you all have about him.  
Be _careful_.

"The last time we saw each other... you were so angry at   
me. Not that I blame you. What I said--"

"Even I can't stay angry forever," she said after a moment.  
"And... you know me, Miki. A lot of the time, I'm not really  
angry, I just make myself angry to avoid being something else.  
Hurt or scared or unsure." She paused, sighed, looked for a  
moment at the stars above them. "You said that to me. It was  
true."

"I hurt you, with what I said."

"Did you expect you wouldn't?" she asked softly, surprised  
at the pain in her voice, the pain she felt thinking back. "It  
wasn't a mistake, Miki."

"I didn't mean it like you took it. I just meant, we  
weren't ready. It just kind of..." He gestured helplessly with  
his free hand. "It happened. Neither of us was ready. I should  
have..."

She laughed. "Are you laying all the responsibility on  
yourself? Please. I was a bit naive when I was younger, but   
when a boy invites a girl back to his house after taking her to  
the graduation ball, the girl knows perfectly well what's going  
to happen."

"I didn't _mean_ it to happen!" he said, almost shouting,  
turning bright red. He still looked as cute when he was  
embarassed as he had when he was younger. "I just thought... you  
know. We'd talk for a while. Have some tea. I'd had a really   
good time. I wanted to spend some more time with you, and then   
I'd walk you home."

"I was ready. I was pretty certain it was going to happen."  
She shrugged. "So, if it's anyone's fault, then, I guess it was  
mine. I'm not sorry it happened, and I'm glad it did. It was   
good, for the first time. At least for me. It's always going to  
be painful for a girl, the first time. You were so gentle. So   
sweet." And a little clumsy, she added silently. And scared,   
and uncertain. We both were.

"It was good for me as well." His hand lifted her hair,   
then came to rest gently on the back of her neck. "I always   
liked you, Nanami. When we first met, I didn't really understand  
you. But I could see you were..."

"I was...?" she asked, after he trailed away into silence  
and didn't seem inclined to continue.

"You were a better person than you were letting yourself be.  
If that makes sense. I don't know if it does." He coughed  
nervously. "I hope that doesn't offend you..."

"I know the kind of person I used to be," she said softly.  
"These days, I like to think... maybe I'm a little better."

He kissed her on the cheek, lightly, then drew his lips away   
as she stood, slightly stunned, blushing furiously and willing  
herself not to. "You are. Everyone is, in their way."

Something about the way he said the last sentence, wistfully  
and faintly bitter, made her start a little. "Everyone? What's  
that mean?"

He blinked. "I suppose I was just thinking about Juri-  
sempai and Shiori-sempai. We're all adults now. We don't have  
the same problems we did when we were younger."

"Not all of them," she murmured.

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"All right. Aren't the stars nice tonight?"

They stood in silence for a little while, beneath the stars,  
in the crisp winter air. She felt warm in his jacket, safe in  
his arms. Reassured. They had to be wrong. He was merely  
caught up in this like a leaf in a whirlwind, ignorant of the  
truth. They could give him his memories back. _She_ could give  
him his memories back. Right now. She remembered how Utena had  
done it for her. It would hurt him, undoubtedly. To recall all  
those painful things at once. But she'd be here to comfort him.  
Then he'd be safe. Out of Akio's clutches.

She realized, so unexpectedly that it was almost epiphanic,  
that she probably loved him. Could love him. Maybe had loved   
him, for a few years now. But because he'd hurt her, she let   
herself repress that, bury it beneath stupid casual dating with   
men who didn't interest her at all, and beneath the stupid   
childish (and not anything _more_ than that, no matter what   
anyone might ever have thought or said) attachment to her   
"brother". Now it all came to her like a sudden beautiful wound.

A faint crystalline tinkle broke the stillness. They both  
started, and she drew away from him. Her wine glass, forgotten  
completely even though it had been the nominal reason for  
returning, was vibrating like a tuning fork. A moment it later,  
it began to hum, as though someone were drawning their wetted  
finger in quick circles around the delicate rim.

Miki dragged her to the ground and shielded her with his  
body just as the hum became a high-pitched, grating wail. The  
glass detonated, and over Miki's shoulder she saw the glinting   
shards fly through the air like swarming insects. They soon lost   
momentum and pattered to the balcony floor all around the two of   
them. Not a one touched her, and if any touched Miki, he made no  
sound.

She lay on her back, taking deep breaths and trying to will  
her heart to slow. Miki was above her, supporting himself on his  
hands and knees.

"Were you cut?" he asked softly.

"No. Were you?"

He shook his head.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I've heard of things like this before.   
Delicate crystal exploding under certain conditions. Maybe  
because you left it outside in the cold?"

"You don't know?" she murmured, looking up into his eyes.  
In this light, the blue was so dark as to be almost black. "I   
thought you were supposed to be a genius."

He smiled down at her. She thought he might lean down and  
kiss her soon. She wondered if anyone was watching. This   
balcony wasn't _that_ isolated.

"I do physics and mathematics," he said. He shifted his  
weight to one arm, and, with the hand of the other, brushed some   
clinging hair away from her cheek. "I was never very good at   
material sciences. Breaking points. Fracturing. That sort of   
thing."

"My back's cold," she said after a moment.

He coloured a little and stood up, offering her his hand.  
Around them, the broken glass lay like fallen stars. He helped  
her to her feet. They walked back inside, crunching shards under  
their shoes.

She gave him his jacket back. The music had stopped. A  
look over the railing let her spot Suzuki, Yamada and Tanaka at  
one of the food tables, eating hors-d'oeuvres with the precision  
of a trio of synchronized swimmers.

"I guess the quartet's taking a break," Miki said, pulling  
his jacket back on and trying to smooth it into shape with very  
limited success. "Aiko-san was a friend of yours, wasn't she?  
You should look for her and say hi."

"I lost touch with her after graduation." And with Keiko  
and Yuuko, too. Not that they'd ever really been friends. She  
understood that now.

"Well, it's never too late to get back into touch, is it?"   
he asked quietly.

She looked away from him, nervously clasping her hands   
before her. "No."

He clasped her shoulder briefly. "I'd love to spend some  
more time with you, Nanami, but I've got more things to look  
after. I'll find you again later."

"Later."

She watched him move away, feeling so happy she almost  
couldn't bear it. He was... hers? Was he? Could he be?

She decided she did love him. He was certainly not   
undeserving of it. She would talk to Utena and Juri, and they  
would understand. Miki would have his memories back soon, and  
he'd be on their side against Akio.

Like an unwanted visitor, a finger of ice suddenly traced  
her spine. The pleasant warmth vanished. A guilty little voice  
began to whisper to her. Very good, Nanami; while _you_ were  
having such a nice time getting reacquainted with Miki, Utena   
(who, let me remind you, is supposed to be your _friend_ now) was  
going for a walk with the psychotic bitch who heads the Council  
now. Probably being led into a trap. And when Chu-Chu figured  
out that you were more interested in Miki than in helping Utena,  
he ran off to find someone who would help. Probably Touga or   
Juri, one of whom was already rescuing Utena from terrible peril,  
earning her gratitude and respect.

She swore and headed for the stairs. Perhaps she wouldn't  
be too late to help out. With whatever it was. If she could   
find it. Stupid hormones. Stupid Miki, distracting her by being  
so sweet.

At the bottom of the stairs, someone called her name, half-  
familiar. "Nanami!"

She turned. Aiko broke away from what looked like an  
admiring knot of guests and caught up to her, a broad smile   
gracing her face and a glass of wine in one hand.

"Aiko," Nanami said, conflicted by the need to help Utena  
and the desire not to talk to Aiko and the thought that maybe she  
could help make up for things from before, and... "Your playing   
is wonderful."

"Hey, thanks." Nanami couldn't tell if she was actually in  
any way glad to see her, or if she was just keeping up the mask.  
"I've got those three goofs to thank, frankly. They're the core  
of the group." She shook her head. "Nobody at the college had  
ever seen anyone who could keep better time together."

"Are they still...?"

"Idiots? Yeah. Well, idiot savants now." She chuckled  
softly. "I'm not really being fair. They're okay guys. Matured  
a little."

"How are Yuuko and Keiko? Do you keep in touch?"

She nodded. "Yuuko's pre-med at a private university in  
Osaka. Pretty near where I go, so we see each other a lot.   
Keiko got engaged a month back."

Nanami found herself smiling. "Tatsuya?"

"Yeah. Not the most exciting guy in the world, I always  
thought, but nice. Cute enough, too." She leaned in and lowered  
her voice. "Have you seen the Chairman? He looks _exactly_ the  
same. Gorgeous, isn't he?"

Nanami kept on smiling, although it now felt painfully  
forced. "I don't know. Looks aren't all in a man."

"Oh, yeah. Personality. Sense of humour. Etcetera." She  
giggled. "Looks help, though. I saw you dancing with Kaoru  
Miki. Just like high school again, huh?"

"Somewhat."

Aiko smiled. "Hey, you're welcome to him. Yuuko and I used  
to be jealous as all hell at the time you got to spend with him.  
But... this'll make you turn green. Guess who's been invited to  
dinner by the Chairman tomorrow?"

Nanami paled. The words rode out of her mouth before she  
even had time to think. "Aiko, you can't!"

All Aiko's geniality vanished instantly. Like a slate being  
wiped clean. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, you mustn't--you see--the Chairman--he isn't--"

"You're exactly the same," Aiko said icily. "Isn't what?  
Isn't meant for a 'normal' girl like me? Am I not _good_ enough  
for him?"

"No--but--"

"Then what the hell did you mean?"

"Aiko, you musn't go," Nanai said helplessly. "If you do--"

Aiko shook her head. "I don't even know why I bothered."   
Then she turned and stalked back towards the group she'd been   
with before. Nanami stood there, hands clenched at her sides,   
hating herself, hating Akio more. Wishing she could go back and   
talk to herself, back when she hadn't been herself. The self she  
was now. Grab herself by the shoulders, the mean, selfish little  
bitch she'd been, and straighten herself out. Before she made  
the mistakes she had. But there wasn't any doing that. No  
undoing anything.

She thought suddenly of a box. A cardboard box. Closed.  
Sliding down concrete banks. A crow circling overhead. The  
thunder of the waters. She hadn't thought about any of those  
things in years.

Taking a deep breath, she hurried away from the now-painful  
sight of Aiko, hoping to find Juri (or even Shiori) first;   
knowing, with her (justly earned) karma, that she'd probably run   
straight into Touga before anyone else.

* * *

Like a comet it came, blazing, searing the grass beneath its  
wheels, and they who drove it were faceless and had skin the  
colour of the gloaming. They wore blue: peaked caps, and   
overalls.

Anthy watched, with Kyouichi beside her, as it screeched to  
a halt and swerved so as to present its passenger side to them.  
The drivers (she was not certain how there could be two drivers,  
but somehow, both of them were the drivers) sprang out of the   
car and flung their arms wide.

ta-da!

"Who are you?" she whispered.

x-ko and y-ko, theatre of shadows technical crew. we  
declare this prop A-OK! it looks like someone did some   
deliberate tampering, though, so be on guard.

"You fixed it?" she asked numbly. Kyouichi was simply  
staring. He had the expression she imagined the camel bore when  
the final straw was laid on his back.

of course we fixed it!

that's our job!

most of the time, we work behind the scenes, to  
make sure everything runs smoothly. sunsets properly  
sunny. roses properly rosey. swords properly swordey.  
hey, remember how much time it took us to get that old  
carousel running properly?

don't even _mention_ that #@!$^@&$#*  
carousel to me! one of those   
horses had an entire _family_ of   
mice living in it! i _told_ you if  
we kept it in storage that long  
that...

yeah, yeah. anyway, listen, we reallllllly   
shouldn't be doing this. but he's playing around with  
the rules of the story too. he's _not doing things the  
way they're supposed to be done_. 

we think he may be trying to change the  
rules.

naturally, we're very upset by this. stories,  
like everything else, have _rules_. breaking them,   
like breaking any other rule, undermines _all_ the  
other rules.

people can't just go about breaking  
rules whenever it suits them, you  
know.

exactly! look at them--they clearly understand.  
they are obviously people of exceptional intelligence  
and refinement.

 

anyway, we did what we could. a bit of  
a gum-and-baling-wire job, we fear, but  
the best possible under the   
circumstances.

what you've got to understand about a car like  
this is that it goes where it wants to go, and if you  
try to make it go somewhere else, it will rebel.

Somehow, Anthy found it within herself to speak. "Where   
does it want to go?"

*chuckle*

*guffaw*

it's simple, really. you just need to think about  
it. you named the car, after all.

*DIOS*

*DIOS*

dios is was has been will ever be is becoming  
shall cease to be The Prince.

naturally, then, he wants to go and save the   
princesses.

all the princesses ever, everywhere.

even he can't do that, though.

the heartless knight didn't help things any   
by messing about with the guts. you're  
just fortunate we had a spare synecdoche  
lying around in the workshop.

the point is just to keep your hands off the wheel  
and let him choose his own road. that way, you'll   
always show up just in time to save the princesses.

(until you run out of fuel, of course) 

it will be very dramatic.

shocking, hopefully.

the sudden rescue!

the mysterious saviour!

They danced, jerky and spasmodic. Ballet for wooden   
princesses. Pavane for marionettes.

"Anthy?"

"Kyouichi?"

His voice was calm and flat. Like a thin crust of ice atop   
a deep black lake. "This world seems to be growing somewhat...  
impressionistic, for want of a better word."

She looked down at the green grass, and saw broad brush-  
strokes rather than individual blades. Overhead, the sky seeped   
into the sun. Or the sun bled golden blood upon the skin of the  
sky. It was hard to say.

"We had best get into the car," she said quietly. They did,  
her behind the wheel, he in the passenger seat. The Theatre of   
Shadows Technical Crew watched them do so, if faceless, eyeless,  
things could be said to watch.

"Now, listen," one of them said, as the world began to blur  
before Anthy's eyes; it seemed that she was rising from the   
floor of the ocean, towards a shimmer of land and sky and sun   
high above through the veil of the waters, and the world passing  
away was bright fish and waving fronds. "The _most important   
thing to understand_ is this. The ending of every story is   
utterly fixed. The ending of every story can always be changed."

Anthy didn't say anything.

"That doesn't make any logical sense," Kyouichi said   
quietly.

"I _know_!" chirped the other one. "Isn't it _wonderful_?"

end of chiaroscuro


End file.
